Crash
by lovestowrite238
Summary: Trouble strikes when you least expect it, something Stiles, Scott and sheriff Stilinski are about to find out. What started out as a simple camping trip ends up terribly wrong when one glance aside causes a whole lot of problems for all involved. Type: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, humor, family relationship Stiles/Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles/Scott Friendship, Derek Friendship. No romance.
1. Crash

Crash

Disclaimer: The Teen Wolf Characters don't belong to me of course, but I like to borrow them to write some stories.

Type: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, humor, family relationship Stiles/Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles/Scott Friendship, Derek Friendship. No romance. There are several references to other characters but with limited parts.

This story is written from Stiles' POV and takes place somewhere after season 3B, blatantly ignoring season 4 and beyond.

Characters: Stiles, Sheriff Stilinski, Scott, Derek, references to others.

Story: Trouble strikes when you least expect it, something Stiles, Scott and sheriff Stilinski are about to find out. What started out as a simple camping trip ends up terribly wrong when one glance aside causes a whole lot of problems for all involved.

 **Reviews are more than welcome!**

 **Chapter One**

Did you know that on that crucial moment, when your life is about to change for the worse, you never come prepared? There isn't such a thing as a fortune teller who can warn you that you are about to die. There isn't a single soul on the entire planet that can tell you exactly when and where your life is about to end. It's as simple as this, you don't know when it's going to happen. And therefore you are not prepared.

At the moment tragedy strikes, you could be doing anything, like riding a bike when a truck takes an unexpected swerve, ending your life before it even could be at school, listening to a boring English lecture when your teacher falls dead due to a sudden heart attack, making you an eyewitness to his sudden death. Or, you could be at home, watching your parents talk when one of them stabs the other one through the chest during a marital fight. Anything could happen at any time, you could be in a mall when someone decides to take revenge on society. Or you could become the victim of a nightly attack at some cinema complex, when an underpaid clerk poisons everyone's popcorn.

Of course none of these dramatic things happened to me, they're just examples of fates of others I read about online. I didn't ride my bike and got hit by a truck, but someone else did. Hell, I haven't seen that old thing for ages, not since dad bought me my crappy yet beloved old jeep. My mother is already gone, so she couldn't be arguing with dad over my studies, but believe me, I would have killed to see that happen - except for the murderous part of course. And our English teacher did have a heart attack but survived and came back after a week, even though half the school begged to have that gorgeous, blonde replacement of his for the rest of the term instead.

My life ended while I was sitting next to dad, chatting to Scott who was pushed in the back, next to the camping gear that took up more space than expected. He wasn't supposed to come on this little trip but Melissa had to work all weekend and Kira was out of town, so he was basically on his own, bored to death and looking for an excuse not to study for his English exam.I felt sorry for him and asked him to come along without asking dad first. As it turned out later, dad wasn't all too happy about this sudden twist in our weekend plans. Apparently dad had planned our trip as a dad-son sort of thing, which alarmed me, because he never did this without wanting to tell me something serious. The moment I found out this was going to be one of those conversations, I was happy I had taken Scott with us as the perfect excuse to avoid dad's typically concerned 'We need to talk'-look plastered all over his face.

Scott of course jumped at the occasion to camp out for the weekend and chatted all the way to the camping site, ignoring dad's frustrated glances whenever Scott started to babble. I pretended not to notice of course and told stupid jokes whenever I got the chance, avoiding any seriousness. Dad and I, well, we do tend to talk, but ever since the nogitsune, he's been overly concerned, believing I am still subject to go to _the dark side_ , as he mumbles, using Darth Vader's voice in a lame attempt to make fun of my precarious situation.

Dad had picked out the campsite we used to go to when mom was still alive, another bad sign that he was about to talk serious business. I expected him to tell me about how important his new girlfriend was to him and how she was going to move in with us. I liked her, by the way. If that's what he was in for, that's fine by me. He met her when she entered the station with a complaint that someone had ripped off all four tires of her car and ended up with a date with dad. Again, I'm perfectly fine with that and she's the first one he's been serious about since mom. We can spare ourselves the embarrassment of the discussion where he defends himself and I have to reassure him over and over again that it's fine with me and I wish him all the best of look.

Since I died before we could have that conversation, dad didn't have the chance to discuss whatever it was he wanted to discuss. We were driving in the darkness on a muddy dirt road, about five minutes away from the campsite, when something in the air changed. I didn't even notice it happening until that loud sound rang in my ears, warning me something was definitely off. I looked up and gazed at my dad who didn't look at us but cursed when the steering wheel of his sensible car blocked completely and we drove off the road, just like that. I should have insisted on taking the jeep.

Dad cursed at least three times while ordering us to brace ourselves. I remembered his hand briefly on my lower arm before returning to his steering wheel, working on getting the car back under control, which he failed to do. Scott yelled at me to brace myself before he basically threw himself in between the seats where he would be the safest.

Dad's car took a turn to the right, off the road and right into the valley, aimed through the trees as an exploding projectile, driving so fast we all knew this could only turn out badly. The next thing I knew, there were these sharp things coming through the windshield. I called them 'things' but they were actually tree branches protruding the glass and aiming their sharp blades directly at us. I shouted, screamed perhaps, as the car just kept on going until we finally hit the bottom.

It was there that I lost my life.

to be continued


	2. Wood

**Chapter Two**

I didn't know my life was on the verge of being lost, neither did I even realize that the two people I loved the most were so concerned about me. I had no sense of where I was, what had just happened to me or why dad's car was flipped onto its side, with my body pushed against the door and shattered window, covered with thousands - if not millions - of little pieces of glass. I just lay there.

The rest of the story of what happened right after the crash, I heard later on from Scott, because of course I didn't stay dead. I survived, otherwise I wouldn't be telling you this. I'm not a ghost, I returned to the land of the living and I owe my life to Scott and Dad. Unfortunately, as it turned out, that was not the end of it. We live in Beacon Hill after all. Nothing's ever normal around here, not even a car crash caused by slippery tires, mud and rainy days that have been plaguing us.

My best friend since we were kids, was thrown out of my dad's car when the metal came sliding down the hill, literally creating a mudslide that left a huge trail in the woods for years to come. Newly planted trees never saw the chance to live the long life of their brothers and sisters, wild and beautiful flowers were ripped out of the ground with the force of a hurricane. Small animals scattered all over the place, most of them managed to escape, some were smashed to death under the wheels of his large car. In between those natural dramas lay Scott, his body hurt and broken but not destroyed, as he lay momentarily unconscious near the trees.

As he woke, he had difficulty remembering at first, but reality struck pretty quickly when he saw our car lying at the bottom of the valley, tumbled to its side, two figures sitting motionless inside. He shouted our names while making his way down to us, panic striking hard at the realization that both of us are regular human beings with no supernatural powers that allow us to heal , what he would discover there, is what he'll have to deal with. On his way down, he already started healing. Smudges of blood was all that reminded him of his tumble down the valley hill.

He first reached my dad's side since he, as the driver, rested on the top side of the car, stuck between his seat and the iron wreckage that kept his legs in place and his body trapped behind his seatbelt. It was that seatbelt that saved his life, without it, he would have been thrown out of the car. Dad, amazingly, was pretty much awake when Scott reached us. His moans quickly alerted my friend who couldn't see me as long as dad was in the way. It was Dad who spoke to him and told him I was in trouble.

'He's not responding, Scott,' Dad's voice broke, 'I can't get him to talk to me. He's got blood all over his face, I don't think he's breathing.' My dad was in terrible pain and every word he spoke cut through him like a knife. Fortunately it turned out later on that he was doing relatively okay and the pain came mostly from cuts and bruises. I couldn't have stand losing my dad like that, he's all I've got in this world and I am not ready to become an orphan.

'Try to relax,' Scott said, focusing on Dad while he went to work quickly, trying to use all of his strength to free my father from his position. But he wasn't strong enough to get Dad out of his position just like that. Dad turned to look at me and from what I heard later on, that was a horrible sight. I lay smashed against the passenger door, my seatbelt ripped out of its holder by the mere shock of the crash. My face did have blood all over it but that was not all, which we had no way of knowing at that moment in time.

Scott worked like crazy to get Dad out of his position but realized he couldn't do this by himself. He dug out his smartphone, only to realize it was smashed during his fall. He couldn't reach Dad's and he definitely couldn't reach mine.

'We're losing him,' Dad muttered as Scott tried to pull Dad out by himself, realizing he couldn't. Dad's body was trapped between tons of steel, there was no way he could lift him by himself.

To Dad's big surprise, Scott climbed out of the car, closed his eyes and roared so loud that Dad had to close his eyes and look away, the wolf's growl being so strong that it almost blew Dad off his socks. I'm used to Scott's roars but to Dad this whole werewolf thing is still quite new and he was still learning what someone like Scott can do.

'Who did you call?' Dad moaned tiredly, his eyelids drooping.

Scott grasped his hand and held it tight. 'Derek,' he said. 'Derek will come. He knows my roar.'

'He's too far off, he'll be too late. You have to find my phone and call for help.'

'Your phone suffered the same fate as mine,' Scott replied, pointing at Dad's old-fashioned cell phone he usually placed near the steering wheel. The phone lay near me, looking just as dead as I.

'We have no time,' Dad groaned, trying to snap out of his stupor, 'we have to get Stiles out _now_ , okay? There's no time, Scott. Stiles is dying, or he may already be dead.'

'I'm trying,' Scott replied, tears filling his eyes. Of course he didn't tell me that little detail, I sort of guessed he would be all weepy-eyed at that point in time. Hey, there's nothing wrong with guys crying, you know. He pulled and pushed at the steel and just when he thought he would never get Dad out, my father's legs popped free and they realized they had a shot at getting him out without Derek.

But there he was, the cavalry, the wolf who reluctantly accepted me as part of Scott's pack despite the fact I was a mere human. Ever since Cora, he became a friend, even though he would probably never admit that out loud.

'I was in the area,' he just said, 'came as fast as I could.'

Dad and Scott realized only later it had taken him about fifteen minutes to get there, during which they had frantically worked to get me out. He didn't need an explanation while his eyes scanned the situation while his nose picked up the scent of my blood. 'Stiles is dying.'

'I know,' Dad gritted, 'get me out _now_.'

Together Scott and Derek managed to free Dad quickly. Derek actually stood on top of the car, balanced his weight so the steel would not budge and showed Scott how to stand too in order to pull Dad out without hurting him too much.

My father, strong as he is, grit his teeth and allowed them to pull him out together. Both wolves helped him to sit on the ground but he wouldn't stay there. He crawled up again immediately, dizzy as hell, ordering them to save me. Knowing the way he could sound, he probably barked them around. I would have done the exact same thing if it had been the other way around.

Derek shared a knowing look with my father, both men having had experience with loss and then nodded. 'You sit down, Sheriff and I'll get him out.'

Dad's bloodied hand grabbed Derek's wrist and he whispered hoarsely, 'He's all I have, Derek. Please don't lose him.'

The wolf merely nodded, knowing all too well what was at stake. 'I won't,' he said through gritted teeth.

To be continued


	3. Car

**Chapter Three**

Derek lowered himself inside Dad's car again, using his perfect balance to crawl in without damaging more steel. He placed his hand at my throat, yelling I was still breathing at the others. Then he beckoned Scott to come and help while Dad sat down against a tree and watched helplessly. He was out of breath and in shock from what was happening to me.

Scott crawled back on top of the car and looked inside, holding his breath as he saw me lying there, looking more fragile than ever, I suppose, even though they wouldn't tell me later on how bad it was. Derek told him to get inside the car.

'What is it?' Scott asked troubled, seeing Derek's worried gaze. The blood on my face came from a head wound that later on turned out to be relatively minor. I had cuts and bruises all over and was covered with glass but that too was not the major issue. The problem, oh irony, rested with my arm.

'He's trapped, look,' Derek replied, pointing at my damaged left arm. It was then that Scott saw that I had literally been pierced by the sharp pieces of wood that came rushing through the windshield, entering our car so fast they worked as arrows. Some of them had missed me, two had grazed me and one had literally pinned me to my leather seat, going through my arm so fast that I hadn't even realized it had happened until the shock of it had sent me straight into oblivion.

Scott explained it all later to me. How he had touched my throat to feel a faint pulse, how I groaned in my deep sleep as Derek touched my damaged arm. 'Oh Jesus,' Scott mumbled, realizing all too well that one wrong move could cost me the use of my arm forever. Not only that, I was trapped against the car seat, lying in a very uncomfortable position.

'There's something wrong,' Derek said concerned, 'there's more to this than we know. His pulse is really faint, we need to get him a hospital fast or we'll lose him. I smell more than just his blood, there's something off. This is serious, Scott.'

'We can't get him out with that piece of wood wedged inside of his arm. We need to get that out of him first,' Scott commented.

'Help me keep him steady,' Derek ordered, taking the lead immediately. Scott did as he was told and placed his weight so that he was behind my seat, lifting me so my weight was now resting more against the seat than the window. Derek moved in front of me, supporting me from the front while keeping my arm in its position. 'We'll have to pull the wood out of the seat first.'

At that exact moment in time I opened my eyes for the first time and found myself right in the middle of a whirlwind of distress, pain and anxiety. I woke up in this horrible, dark world of terror, you see, caused by a tremendous amount of pain I hadn't felt since the moment the nogitsune had left my body. The immediate remembrance of that moment made me cry out as soon as I opened my eyes and realized I was lying in a twisted world of metal.

Then I felt Scott's hands on my shoulders and Derek's hands on my arm, literally pinning me down and I cried out, fighting so hard immediately that it upset them both. I panicked, struggling for air, fighting them and then realizing that my arm was unable to move. Every single movement I made, sent a roaring sense of pain through my system.

Derek placed his hand underneath my chin and whispered in this strange, almost gentle voice, 'Stiles. STILES! Calm down, you are fine. You're going to be okay. You had an accident, remember? You have to calm down now before you make it any worse.'

I don't know what it was, the sound of his voice or the way he literally enabled me to move, but I calmed down within a second and just stared at him.

'Are you calm?'

I nodded weakly.

'Good, now listen to me. Your Dad is okay, Scott is right behind you and will support you and I am here to help you too. We need you to focus but I'm not going to lie to you, it's not going to be pleasant.'

My eyes caught sight of the narrow piece of wood piercing my arm and I held my breath. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before, I became instantly nauseated and moaned. 'Is this what a chicken feels before going on the grill?' I panted, 'take it out, just take it out, Derek. Please, take it out!'

Scott's hands still lay on my shoulders and he moved forward, his voice soft and gentle. 'Stay calm,' he whispered, 'Stiles, trust us, we will help you.'

'I am calm,' I trembled, 'now take it out. Take it out!'

I hated small spaces and Scott knew that. My claustrophobia instantly got the better of me, struggling against my senses that were absolutely non-existent at this moment. 'I can't be in this place, Scott, I simply can't. Get it out, get me out of here. Please, Scott.' Tears rolled down my face as I remembered all those times the nogitsune had haunted my dreams, trapping me into narrow spaces, holding me prisoner inside my own, horrid dreams. This had to be a dream too, I came to realize, this could not be happening.

But it was.

'We have to calm him down,' Derek said, 'he'll move too much and make the damage worse.'

'We have to call for help,' Scott replied.

'There's no time.' Derek's eyes fixed upon me and then dwelled a second long to Scott. 'Or didn't you smell the gasoline?'

'Oh god,' I grunted, 'just get it out, I'll stay calm, I swear. Get me out of here, please.' The moment I too smelled the gasoline, realizing the new danger we were in, I calmed down at once. Then I became so dizzy that the world actually twisted before my eyes.

'Stiles, what is it?' Derek immediately asked, staring at the beads of sweat rushing down my eyes, mingling with my tears.

'I don't feel so well,' I mumbled, my head tilting forward. Derek slapped me in the face and I looked up startled, shocked as he was that I was on the verge of passing out.

'Stay with me, Stiles,' he said sharply, 'you're not going to end like this.'

Scott and Derek shared a glance as my best friend once again grasped my shoulders, supporting my body against the leather seat. Derek tore off a piece of his T-shirt and used it as a glove to work with the wood. Then his right hand grasped the wooden piece while his other hand steadied my arm, supporting it between the seat and myself. As he did, he moved the shaft embedded in my arm an inch or two. I bit my lip open in pure pain but didn't cry out. I was in another place inside my head, there where I went when things got rough.

Derek's touch was like a burn upon a burn and I nodded, my face bathing in sweat. He supported my arm in his palm while at the same time pinching the narrow wooden piece between his fingers. Then he grasped the wood protruding from just above my arm, slowly withdrawing arm and wood out of the leather. I remained still with closed eyes, fully alert to experience the ordeal that seemed to last an eternity. I could feel every move that he made, every single push and pull.

'Scott, help me,' Derek's voice said through the mist and pain that were mine. I was somewhere else, outside of my body, fighting against the darkness that seemed so welcome at this moment.

My best friend reached over me and grasped the wood tight. With a swift move Scott broke off the back of the wooden piece while I groaned in pain. the next moment I was freed from the seat, but not from the wood that was wedged inside my arm. I sunk forward against Derek while Scott held me tight from behind.

I didn't remember Derek lifting me gently from my position, pushing my body into Scott's arms who had crawled outside of the car. My best friend lifted me out of the vehicle, holding me while Derek crawled up too. Both of them then gently lowered my body to the ground. I drifted in and out of consciousness at that point, aching so badly I silently begged for mercy.

To be continued


	4. Dead

Thank you so much for the lovely messages, the following and liking. Very much appreciated :)

 **Chapter Four**

I remembered being moved. They were moving me. I was in between Scott and Derek who were half-dragging me out of the area. It hurt like hell. Dad was right behind us, limping and groaning. The next thing I knew a huge explosion behind us threw us forward onto the ground. The car had been blown to pieces. We all lay there and I recalled feeling this tremendous ache in my arm.

'Oh sweet Jesus,' Dad muttered, crawling towards me with the flames eating up what remained of his car behind him. The heat was tremendous, even from this distance. 'Stiles, can you hear me?'

I could feel them gently move me onto my back, Scott's jacket behind my head. I panted in pain, not wanting to stare at the wood sticking through my lower arm. It hurt so badly I cried out loud enough for the world to hear and it wasn't over yet.

'Stiles,' my father said, 'look at me, you're going to be fine. Just hang on, son, we'll get you to a hospital.' I said nothing back even though I was comforted somehow by his presence. Why the hell did we have to go on this camping trip again?

'My car is nearby,' Derek said, 'we have to get him out of here now, this area isn't safe. We need to get that piece of wood out of his arm. The longer it stays in there, the greater the damage.'

'No, we have to get him to a hospital,' my father said, 'it's too risky to get it out ourselves. What do you mean, this area isn't safe?'

Derek didn't comment but just stared at Scott, not willing to share all of his secrets with the sheriff just yet.

'Derek, what's going on?' Scott asked worriedly.

'Look, this entire area is owned by a different pack, okay? The Alpha poisons his enemies with a special potion he covers his territory with. He uses herbs that paralyses werewolves if they inhale it for too long, if they decide to take over his domain. He and his pack are immune to it.'

Scott looked terrified. 'Does that mean we are poisoned?'

'It means that the scent is here, it's everyone around us but we won't be here long enough to feel its effects,' Derek reassured him. 'But this poison, it's deadly to humans. If this wood is smeared with it and enters Stiles' bloodstream -'

'- my son might die,' Dad completed.

'I can't say for sure that it's poisoned but the Alpha's scent was on Stiles and the car, just like it is in this entire area. He will pick up Stiles' bloodscent quickly and be drawn to it.'

'This is a safe campsite,' Dad said sharply, 'how come I didn't know about this?'

'It used to be, years ago.' Derek focused on Dad. 'You should have done your homework better, this entire place is cursed, didn't you know?'

'No, I didn't, just like I don't know half of what's going on in Beacon Hills,' my father replied sharply.

'Let's get that wooden piece out of his arm first and then argue about Beacon Hills' safety,' Scott interrupted. 'Then we can make it to Derek's car and get the hell out of here.'

Derek nodded, as did my father. Scott hovered over me while tears of pain escaped my eyes. My best friend grasped my free arm by the wrist and pinned it to the ground so I wouldn't lash out. His other hand supported my left shoulder. Dad squeezed my good right hand. 'It's going to be okay, Stiles,' he spoke, over and over again, almost putting me into a trance as he did.

'Do it,'I groaned, keeping my eyes shut while my right hand clutched the ground for support. Derek grasped the wood with the wrapped cloth from his own T-shirt and pulled it out steadily. For a second there I felt like that chicken being prepped for a barbecue, as the wood slid slowly but surely through my arm, grasping past flesh, bone and muscle on its way out, going so slowly that I lost all track of time and whereabouts. The ordeal seemed to last an eternity but then the broken piece of wood finally slipped out of my arm, leaving two holes that needed urgent treatment. A steady trail of blood dripped onto the ground from both sides. My body was rigid, my entire being stiff as a board. Then, when Scott told me that it was over, I could feel myself relax. The next moment, darkness came so fast I couldn't stop it.

'He stopped breathing,' I heard my dad yell.

'We're losing him,' Derek shouted.

'Stiles, hang on,' Scott said.

Then I was out like a light. Dead to the world. Dead to my father and my friends.

Dead.

I didn't see a bright light, didn't catch a glimpse of mom, didn't walk into a dark tunnel towards death. None of that happened, I was just out like a light and lay there as my dad and Derek pumped life back into me with Scott watching.

I didn't stay dead for long, mind you. Must have been in and out in a few seconds, as I woke up with my father's mouth on mine, breathing air into my lungs. Derek's hands were on my chest. I coughed hoarsely, returning to reality at once.

'Stiles, thank god.' Dad cried, his hand on my cheek, 'we've got you, son, we've got you.'

I looked into my dad's eyes and knew I was safe. I slipped away again as I lay in his arms, not knowing that this was just the beginning.

to be continued


	5. Poison

Thank you all for the great reviews, this is very much appreciated. On with the show :)

 **Chapter Five**

I woke up not so long after I had passed out, feeling a bit better, albeit still as if I had been in a crash. Oh wait, I _had_ been. The flames had finally died down, leaving smoldering steel. Scott and Derek were away, leaving Dad and I alone at the bottom of the valley. My arm was bandaged and hurt but the pain was acceptable.

'Stiles,' my dad said relieved, 'you're back.'

'What happened?'

'You passed out, scared the hell out of and Derek are scanning the area, making sure that other Alpha is not ambushing have a walk ahead of us towards Derek's car. It's about half a mile from here. They can carry you.' Dad averted his eyes and I knew at that point that something more was going on than me just passing out. I decided to let it go for now and find out the gory details later. I felt like I had been beaten up, every muscle in my body felt sore and my back was killing me.

'No way in hell I'm going to be carried out of here,' I replied proudly, trying to sit up. Dad helped me to lean against a tree stem and checked me out. He looked terrible with dark circles under his eyes and that dreadful sense of guilt plastered all over his face.

'It's not your fault,' I muttered, 'Dad, it was an accident.'

'I should have -' He began and faltered almost immediately.

'Dad, stop it. It was car crash, we're alive, we're going to be fine, okay?' I placed my hand on his arm. 'Please don't do this. You don't deserve this, it could have happened to anyone.'

'Please stop me with my bright ideas next time I propose to go camping,' he said as tears streamed down his face and he hugged me fiercely. 'I can't lose you, Stiles, it would kill me too.'

'You're not losing me,' I said self assured. 'We're fine, we're getting the hell out of here and then some doctor can stitch me up and we'll joke about it during our next barbecue. I swear I'm going to turn vegetarian, seriously.'

He looked at me as if I had gone nuts, perhaps I had, just a little bit. I felt lightheaded and totally out of it, which seemed to trouble him.

'My arm, how bad is it?' I asked concerned, trying to get a glimpse of the wound, only to find my arm was bandaged with a dirty piece of cloth. Blood seeped through it.

'It's not broken, thank god, but I'm afraid you'll need surgery to repair damage to your nerves and muscles when we get back. Can you move your fingers? They seem swollen, Stiles.'

I willed my fingers to move and they did, to our relief.

Dad places his hand on my forehead, 'you're warm, feverish. I don't have anything to give to you, I'm afraid, everything we had with us blew up with the car.'

'That's fine,' I said bravely, sighing briefly. 'Where are they? We have to get going.' I tried to get up but found out soon enough that I couldn't, my consciousness was walking on a thin line and my movements felt faint, sluggish, strangely detached from me. It was as if my legs no longer obeyed my mind, I felt helpless as a child.

Derek and Scott returned to find me struggling to stand. 'Sit down,' Scott ordered me around, 'you're in no state to walk. You were just in a crash, Stiles.'

'So were you,' I mumbled, 'I don't see you holding your head, do I? Oh wait, you can heal and I can't. Doh.'

'Funny. At least your humor didn't die with you,' Derek retorted, only to receive an angry gaze from Scott and my father, shooting glances at him.

'I died?' I stared at the two of them while Dad lowered me against the tree again. 'For real? Damn.'

Derek knelt down, lifted my arm in his palms before I could stop him and looked me in the eye while he looked from my arm to my face. 'How bad is the pain?'

'Nogitsune-like,' I mumbled, deciding not to lie.

That sort of shocked Scott who stared at me because I had mentioned my demon just like that. That meant it was pretty bad. Truth be told, it was, I can't lie about that. But I grit my teeth, not wanting my stupid arm to slow us down.

Derek's gentle hands took some of my pain but not all, it was enough to make me sit upright and then I could stand without my legs giving in. I nodded gratefully. 'Thanks,' I said, realizing once more that he was a good man underneath all that hurt. I must have reminded him of his dead girlfriend, albeit in a male and non-sexual kind of way. I had figured out a long time ago he didn't like humans because they were too frail. He didn't know what it was like being human, he couldn't compare past experiences with us. Scott had been there, he still remembered.

Scott offered me his support which I happily accepted for a moment, before releasing his grip decisively.I stood on my own two feet and that didn't feel bad at all. Yes, we were getting there!

'That feels better,' I said gratefully, looking as proudly as a toddler finding out how to walk. 'Now, can we please get the hell out of here?'

Derek nodded and then he looked at my father and Scott. 'We have to move now. These woods have eyes, we are being watched and they're not our friends. We have to get going immediately.' His eyes suddenly stopped at Scott's, realizing for the first time Scott was the Alpha and he should step back. But Scott didn't even seem to realize and was grateful for the help of the older wolf. So was I, by the way.

'Then let's go,' I said, suddenly swaying on my feet, grasping Scott so rapidly that he almost fell along with me. Derek's strong hands grabbed me before we both fell to the ground. Derek, Dad and Scott all stared at me as I felt as weak as a puppy, all I had in me suddenly gone. I could barely stand, my legs buckled but I willed myself to stay upright. I must have looked like crap when I looked up again because they were really worried there. I could see it in their eyes. Dad actually looked as if I was on death's door.

'You look terrible,' Derek spoke worriedly, 'I'm afraid I was right, the wood that entered your arm has also infected your blood. God damnit.'

'What does that mean?' Dad asked. 'Derek, tell me what's going on.'

'The more we move him like this, the more we might spread the poison.' He cast a glance at my arm. 'We have to stop the poisoning from spreading.'

'How?' Scott's hoarse voice demanded.

'Like you would stop a snake's venom, by cutting it open and sucking out the venom.'

'Cutting it out - Wait, are you going to cut open my arm?' I nearly shouted, 'are you actually going to suck on my arm? No way in hell, Derek! Get me to the car right now, get me to a freaking hospital but don't touch me. What if you bite me? You can't turn me, you just can't!'

'You're not doing it,' Dad jumped at my defense, 'That's madness, Derek. Stiles is right, he doesn't want to become a werewolf.'

'I'm not going to bite him. But think about this, sheriff and I advise you think about it seriously because this is going to happen if we don't act. Do you want your son to lose his arm or his life?' Derek retorted, his eyes fixing a strong gaze upon my dad. 'If I'm right and the poison is inside of him, he'll die for sure, he won't even make it to the hospital. This poison is strong, I have watched people succumb to it. We have to do this now and then get him to the car.'

'I don't care,' I yelled, albeit weak. 'You won't cut my arm.' I pulled myself loose from Scott and stumbled forward, ignoring them. 'Where's your car? We can be at the hospital in an hour.'

'There isn't enough time,' Derek spoke sharply, looking at me as I struggled with myself. 'Even if we make it there that fast, they will be forced to amputate your arm because this stuff will spread so fast it will reach your heart in less than four hours. Stiles, listen to me, I know what I'm talking about. I swear I won't bite you, I know you don't want it. I know what I'm doing.'

I felt weaker as a baby and realized the wolf was right. I could feel it infesting me, whatever it was that had entered my body. There was time. This thing would creep further into my system and kill me. I turned to Derek and moved my bandaged arm, pulling the cloth off of it. To my shock, blood and something dark oozed out of both wounds. My arm felt hot and swollen.

'It's spreading,' Derek spoke quietly.

'Can you help him?' Scott almost shouted. 'I'll help Stiles to calm down.'

'Stiles -' My dad knew what he had to say and I knew I had to make it easier on him.

'It's okay, Dad,' I spoke numbly. 'It'll be okay.'

Derek nodded and with that, my fate was sealed. Dad came over to me to grab me and hold me tight but he shouldn't bother. I sat down defeated on the ground and offered my arm to Derek. 'Just do it. But I swear, if you bite me, I'll become the biggest Alpha ever and kick your butt.'

He smiled. 'I have no doubts about that, Stiles.' Then he added seriously, 'I can't knock you out.'

'You don't have to. Just do it.'

My friends and my dad laid me down, with Dad's jacket functioning as a pillow under my head, holding my arms so I couldn't move an inch. 'Look at me, Stiles,' Dad said, his eyes filled with tears once more. 'Just focus on me.'

Then I felt something sharp pierce through my skin and realized it was Scott's unsterile pocketknife that ripped straight through the flesh, leaving a new trail of dark, infected blood on the ground. I bit open my lower lip when Derek's mouth was on my arm and he sucked out the venom, spitting it onto the ground over and over again. He didn't change, made sure I did not receive the bite, focused on saving my arm and my life. His mouth was human. Dad was simply not able to do this, it would kill him too.

I refused to cry out, remembering how I dealt with the pain the nogitsune gave me. I closed my eyes and moved my mind into outer space, not wanting to fight with all of my natural strength against them who did this to me. Then I finally managed to withdraw into that special place in my head where no one could touch me. My body relaxed, I was completely phased out. I didn't pass out this time, felt every single thing and let them do it.

When it was over, Derek seemed very surprised I had made it without giving in, without passing out. He wrapped my arm gently, felt my feverish forehead and told me they would carry me to the car now. I wasn't able to walk myself, I knew that and swallowed what was left of my pride.

'We can hold him between us,' Scott said. Derek nodded. Dad said he could manage on his own, looking very pale and very distressed.

'I'm sorry,' I muttered numbly as they lifted me between them, Scott's warm hand deliberately on my hurt arm to take away some of the pain, 'sorry for being such a burden.'

Dad stared at me shocked. 'Stiles, this is my fault, not yours. You're never a burden. You're the strongest person I know, I'm so proud of you.'

I smiled goofily at him as he hugged me. 'Let's go home, Dad.'

'We _are_ going home,' he spoke firmly.

If only we had known.

to be continued


	6. Shake

Thank you so much to all following this story and leaving reviews and private messages! Let's get moving again.

 **Chapter Six**

The car crash was last night. And this is today, a new day with enemies following our trail and no chance in hell of getting out of here just like that for the simple reason that we are stuck in the middle of the woods, no working cell phones, Derek's battery died somewhere around four a.m., and not a living soul around, except of course for those damned shapeshifters that were tracking us.

We are still here, stuck in the valley of the other Alpha, on foot at least half a day away from Beacon Hills in circumstances but it might as well have been a lifetime away. Normally I'm not scared one bit from forests or outdoor spaces, but right now I'm scared as hell.

I'm no longer the careless Stiles who doesn't get beaten by something as tiny as a car crash followed by an explosion. Oh no, in other circumstances I would have been joking about the silliness of this situation, about this stupid arm of mine and the way Derek actually placed his lips on my skin and sucked out the poison. 'I hope next time you're not planning on putting those lips anywhere else,' I would have said. He would have turned his eyes to the sky and mumbled something about weak little Stiles needing his help for everything.

I would also have mocked Derek for not being able to get us safe to his car and from there on into town. I would have told him that he should have put a wolf up for guard, wondering how he couldn't have seen this coming.

But at this moment I'm far from joy and making fun out of this situation. I'm actually on the verge of calling it quits as my vision changes continuously from light to dark. I keep on hearing this Amy Winehouse song in my head for some reason. _We only said goodbye with words, I died a hundred times. I'll go back to black…_ I feel like I am dying those hundred deaths right now. Someone just kill me already.

In my head I am already saying my goodbyes, worrying about my father if he should lose me. Dad's eyes never leave my sight. He steps worriedly next to Scott, fixing those fierce blue eyes of him on me while I drag myself further up the hill and deeper into the green valley, supported by either Derek or Scott, but never both of them together. One of them needs to keep watch while the other one takes care of me.

My arm is killing me. It hurts horribly. Not even the coldness of my demon brought me down to this level of ache. I feel like I'm being murdered from inside out, I can't explain it any other way and every single step I take makes me want to scream out in pure pain. Should I say this to them while lying exhausted on the moist soil during short periods of time? Or should I keep it to myself, realizing there isn't anything they can do? I hear them talk about me while I pretend to be resting, hear them discuss the situation.

The situation is that we are in grave danger, all of us. For hours now the Alpha has been following us without attacking us, howling his pack together. They have been circling us, making our paths of escape narrower, driving us straight where they want us to be. Derek said they're a one of kind pack, actually living in these woods without ever returning to humanity.

'They live of their preys, they are experienced hunters. They've lost all common - human - senses when they moved here,' he explains, all of us hungry and weary. 'They can't be negotiated with. Compare them to beasts, a pack like you'll never see again.'

'Who the hell are they?'

'All I know is that one of them used be human a long time ago, was bitten and then expelled to these woods by his mother. She left him here to die in the middle of the winter but somehow he managed to survive. As his strength grew, he instinctively sought out a new pack and picked out kids from town that had hardly any family. He bound them to him.'

'That's horrible,' Scott said quietly, feeling just as sorry as I was for them.

'An Alpha has many choices to make, Scott,' Derek spoke quietly. 'This was his. He turned them all into hunters of the worst kind.' Derek's glance turned to his sheriff, my dad. 'You couldn't have know that they had moved territory a while back. But you might have heard of the murders, even if they weren't in your district.'

'I heard some rumors,' Dad says apologetic, 'but I had no idea our campsite was impacted.'

'They killed off a family, the rest of the vacationers left immediately and the area was shut down.'

'The last time we went camping was six years ago,' I said, my eyes finding Dad who felt extremely guilty again. I still didn't know what he had wanted to discuss with me. Something told me I might never know now, thanks to the wild Alpha and his pack of wolves.

Last night, it was the middle of the night at that point in time, we arrived at Derek's car to find it torn apart. Literally torn apart, that is. Its wheels were ripped off, the material forced apart. The steering wheel lay broken in the woods, the seats were completely gone, the engine had been torn to shreds. Every single thing that an engine consisted of was busted. This was the Alpha's way of saying, 'Stay the hell off my territory.'

Dad stared at it in pure shock, having never seen anything like this. I looked up tiredly, sweat literally pouring down my face out of pure exhaustion and realized we were doomed.

'Someone should make me a territorial map,' my dad cursed angrily. Then he glared at Scott, 'Why the hell didn't _you_ know about this?'

Scott realized Dad was putting the blame on him to make it easier for himself but it still stung as if he had been ripped apart with a blade. 'I'm sorry,' he said quietly.

'Scott didn't know because I didn't tell him about the wild Alpha,' Derek immediately interfered. 'If you want to blame someone, blame me. I am a man with many secrets and this one proved to be very dangerous. For that, I'm sorry.' Then he gazed at me. 'I won't let Stiles die, I swear.' The fact he spoke about my death confirmed I wasn't out of the woods yet, no pun intended. There was still something seriously wrong with me and he knew it. It was our common secret.

Dad instantly calmed down. 'I'm sorry,' he said upset, 'you saved his life already, I can't ask for anything more. You're a good man, Hale.'

Derek looked at Dad's words and then nodded, I swear he was almost smiling there, my father's words obviously pleasing him. 'Thank you, Sheriff, so are you.'

I didn't say a single word as everything I said just ached. Scott's strong arm held me upright as he spoke, 'what now?'

'We're going on foot,' Derek said, sniffing the air. 'He's nearby, forcing his pack to focus on us. We can fight them, they're still pretty young, but we need to make sure that Stiles and Stilinski are safe.'

'I can fight too,' Dad said immediately, picking up a log from the ground. Hey, I got my bat skills from somewhere, you know?

'Me too,' I heard myself mutter. 'I still have one arm left.'

Derek snorted and then he really smiled. 'You know what? I believe you, Stiles.'

'Good,' I said.

With that, we started our hellish path through the woods, heading straight for Beacon Hills, realizing we had a long journey ahead of us. Derek sensed the Alpha Pack near the road, knowing they were driving us deeper into the forest. 'We can go southbound right through the woods,' he just said before leading us the way.

You know, I've been hurt before. I've been knocked out, have been possessed, drugged, been hit several times, had people crawling inside my head, have been ripped open by my demon and been in crashes before. But nothing has ever felt like this. Nothing has ever been so hard to bear. Nothing.

This stupid wound os small and insignificant, even the cut created by Derek isn't that large. You will hardly see it when it's healed. Yet it feels as if every single movement I make with my arm sends sharp needles of pain through my arm, wrist, shoulder and neck and now it's spreading to my body and legs. I can hardly move anymore because it hurts too much. It is almost as if my entire system is shutting down, being taken over by attacks of pain that I can't control. I sweat beads of pain, I breathe out pain, I exhale it in the darkest of nights. It's like this pitch black blanket covering me, taking away my common sense. This damned poison must still be inside of me and it's killing me.

It hurts so badly I can barely breathe properly. I have never hurt so much before in my life. I don't think that I will ever suffer like this again, unless perhaps on the day I might truly die. This pain is beyond words and nothing can stop it. I see bolts of lightning before my eyes, slashing through my skull, taking my senses. But I don't cry out, I don't shout. I just hold on.

And I can't pass out, for some reason my body is insistent on staying wide awake to experience every single second of this ordeal. I've almost begged Derek to just knock me out and be done with it but refused to do so through gritted teeth, fighting against my common sense to beg for mercy. I'm awake to every moment of this terror, not comprehending why it feels as if I am burning from the inside out.

Every twenty minutes or so I needed to sit down, trembling from sheer pain until Dad finally stood up and begged himself Derek to knock me out so I wouldn't feel the pain. My constant tremors provided enough proof of this damned ordeal and he couldn't stand it anymore. Hell, my father almost does it himself, standing before me with gritted teeth, balling his fists but he is stopped by Scott who tells him I need to be alert and awake. Derek apparently told him I might not wake up anymore if I sleep now.

'When he moves, he fights the poison. If he sleeps too deep, it takes its chance and takes him over. We've done all we could, Stiles alone can stop it now.' This explains why they won't let me doze off for more than five minutes at least.

I hear them talking about the bite. I hear them discussing the possibility of saving my life that way, but it's Derek who says I won't survive it. 'This poison will not allow it to happen. All we can do is get him to hold on while he fights through what's left of it in his system. But trust me, if it was too much, he would have been dead by now. I know you won't like me saying it but the more he suffers, the more proof he's holding on.'

This constant pain of mine slowed us down to a turtle's speed. It alarmed Scott and Derek that the Alpha had not attacked us yet. 'He's waiting for something,' the oldest wolf said.

'For a weak moment from our side,' Scott remarked. 'He knows we're Alphas too.'

'You are,' Derek commented lightheartedly. Scott stared at him. 'So are you, even if you don't hold the power anymore.'

I felt Scott's gaze when he thought I was too weak to to be awake. I could tell he was staring at me, already accepting the possibility he might be losing me. I understood, I felt the exact same way. 'How much longer can he keep this up?'

'He'll make it.' With that, Derek didn't say another word and I fell asleep, despite my eagerness to stay awake and move on quickly.

Suddenly I look up startled, surprised by Scott hovering over me while I am lying on my side. He looks quite troubled, holding my arm and feeling the skin of my face. Then he steps back and Derek takes his places. And then there is my dad, his eyes expressing all of their combined worries. I realize suddenly that I hadn't slept at all.

'He's awake,' Derek says, as if I'm not even there. 'His eyes are open, at least.'

'How is he?'

'Worse, his fever is spiking, the wound on his arm is infected. We have to get moving again.' Derek looks at Scott. 'Do you want to carry him or do I?'

'Nobody's carrying me,' I say but they don't hear me. My mouth isn't moving. I'm annoyed that they're talking about me as if I'm not even there and they keep on doing this.

'Can you get him up?' Dad asks. 'I can carry him too, you know.'

'Not in the state you're in,' Derek remarks, wiping that suggestion off the board.

'I'll do it this time,' Scott says, his hand already on my shoulder. Again? They've already carried me like around? When the hell did that happen? Then I stop thinking and listen to the sounds of the woods. I hear an owl. Crap, why is there an owl crying out during the day? Oh sweet jesus, it's the middle of the night again.

'They're here.' Derek's voice sounds sharp, like a warning. Dad kneels by my side, his hand on my good arm.

'Get him to wake up,' Scott orders. 'We can't afford to lose one of us if we have to fight. He has to walk on his own this time.'

I can move, I want to say. I can take care of myself, seriously. I'm a big boy. I will myself, _force_ myself to move. At long last, something moves. My right arm, my good arm. Dad looks at it, surprised that I'm actually making an attempt to do something useful.

'Is he really awake?' Scott asks and hovers over me again. 'Stiles, can you hear me?'

'No,' Dad says, 'not really. He's totally out of it, like he's drugged or something.'

'He _is_ sort drugged,' Derek replies dry. 'Okay, let's do this.'

I feel two sets of arms grab me tight. Dad orders Scott, 'Pull him up, you need to get him to move _now._ Watch out for the arm.' I finally manage open my eyes fully, instead of in the semi-conscious state that I used to be. They're startled by my sudden movement.

'Stiles,' my dad says relieved, 'can you talk? Can you hear me?'

'Yeah,' I say, for the first time truly terrified. I hardly recognize my own voice.'Something's wrong with me, Dad,' I say anxiously.

'I know, son. I know.'

'Leave me here,' I say tiredly, 'go get help. Save yourself.' He just ignres me.

'We can't split up, we're being tracked by the other pack,' Scott says. 'We need to stick together to protect you.' I notice he's turned half wolf, his red eyes glaring into the dark. My dad always startles when he sees the transformation but this time he welcomes it.

'I can't move,' I mutter. 'Scott, you have let go. Get help, save yourself.'

'Never,' Scott grunts, scanning the area, every hair of his body rising, claws sticking out, alerted and strong, ready to attack but not to kill. He won't kill.

Then Derek appears again, also in full werewolf force. I stare at him, realizing there is only two of them and probably many of the others. Dad and I are useless. They're both so cautious it scares the hell out of me. I grasp Scott's leg, getting his attention. 'Listen to me,' I plead. 'I'm already gone, Scott, I'm beyond saving. You have to save yourself, save my dad.'

My dad holds his breath, staring at me so shocked that I want to hug him and tell him it's fine. I'm okay with it. 'I mean it,' I persist, 'please, Scott. Get back into town, you know it's right. Get my dad to safety, _please._ Please, Scott. If you're my friend you know you have to do this for me.'

'Don't listen to him, he's in shock,' my dad urges. 'His fever is spiking. I'm not going without him.'

'They're leaving us,' Derek suddenly says, his fierce eyes scanning the left while Scott takes the right. 'Why are they leaving?'

'Because they want their preys to be weaker,' Scott reacts, staring at my dad and I. 'They want them. The more we need to take care of Stiles, the lesser of a threat we become for them.'

'He's burning up.' Dad repeats, 'there must be something we can do. Isn't there some magic herb around these woods or something?'

'Only the kind that can kill,' Derek says quietly. 'I'm sorry, sheriff, there's nothing we can do. Scott, are you ready?'

I can feel their hands grasping my upper arms and pulling me into a sitting position, refusing to listen to my protests. The pain that emerges from my wounded arm is so terrible that I just want to yank the limb off and throw it away.

'Somebody cut it off,' I mumble and they ignore me. 'Just cut it off.'

Together, Derek and Scott pull me up, both of them still in their wolf forms, their eyes scanning the area. I can feel my right arm being pulled over Scott's shoulder, with him hold on tight to my wrist while my left hand lingers against my chest. We don't have any material to turn into a makeshift sling. Derek places his arm behind my back for firm support. I hate them for doing this to me and at the same time I love them for not abandoning me, despite my constant protests that they should.

'Shut up, Stiles,' Derek mutters when I try to convince him with feverish eyes that he should just let me go. So I shut for a second, until the pain radiates so badly I just want it to go away.

'Cut it off,' I keep on saying. 'Just cut it off. Cut it off, cut it off, cut cut cut.' I'm pretty delirious, I suppose, but the pace of my words actually help guide the pace of my feet. I follow my own rhythm and my dad and my friends follow it with me.

Then Scott starts singing this song from Taylor Swift. He almost dances with it as he sings it, his voice false like hell but at the same time so funny. He actually shakes his ass at the rhythm of his own voice. Oh my crazy friend. ' _Cause the players gonna play play play play, and the haters gonna shake shake shake shake shake shake. Shake it off. Shake it off.'_

Dad actually picks in during the chorus, both of them singing so loudly all of a sudden that Derek actually stops, lifts his eyes to the nightly skies and mutters that we're crazy as hell. Then he too starts to sing the chorus and the three of them let themselves go.

But it helps. My feet pace by their voices and I grin.

 **I just start grinning. Maybe there's hope after all. No crazy Alpha can stand this terrible howling.**

 **To be continued**


	7. Arm

Thank you again for the lovely messages, reviews and following. Here we go again :)

 **Chapter Seven**

The next hour we go at a steady rhythm, lead by Derek who brings us slowly but surely back to the outskirts of town, using his enhanced tracking skills to guide us back right through those thick, dark woods. As we walk, I try to analyze my own predicament. It's not the arm that's causing problems, it's my head, which pounds like crazy. It seems as if my brain is trying to find a way out through my ears, ready to drain out like water would.

The songs my friends sing - one after the other, as they help somehow - which paced our speed for a while have died down after half an hour or so. Scott fell still since then, my dad isn't saying a single word anymore as he walks quietly besides us and Derek just continues to walk. I'm really worried about my dad, he looks like he's been through the wringer. He must feel so bad, carrying the guilt of that crash, his injuries and the lack of food and water. He blames himself for not checking up on that old campsite, having been so determined to get us there because he was in desperate need of a father-son talk.

I feel like shit for having to force him to do so during a forced campout. Why didn't he just talk to me at home? Why did he feel like he had to do this? Well, I know of course. It's my fault. Ever since I gained my soul back, I've been avoiding dad. I can't even explain why I did it properly but you might have guessed already. How do you go from being possessed by a spirit, driving you to do these horrible things, back to being a normal kid with a regular life? How do you talk about this to the man who raised you, who thought you had the same dementia as your mother, who figured he was already on the verge of losing you so many times? How do you go from being normal to evil to being partially normal again? Because I am only partially normal, which I don't want to confess to him. I'm more agitated than ever, feel anger and upset and so much more about what happened. And I feel so damned guilty for giving in to the darkness in the first place.

'I'm sorry, Dad,' I hear myself mumble but he doesn't reply because he has no clue about what I'm thinking. And so we go on again, on and on and on through these enormous woods, my spiking fevers being the only thing that slows us down so much.

I'm not allowed to sleep anymore. It's nearly midnight of the second day that we're here. The hour that we would have needed, speeding like crazy, was replaced by a walk that takes forever.

'Stay with us, Stiles,' Scott says sharply all of a sudden and his foot actually moves aside and kicks me because I let my head slide forward. I pry my eyes open and nod. I see two of him but I won't tell him that.

I'm walking. Walking. Moving. And there are no phone booths or cell phones to use to get some damned help. With every step we take, we're getting there. That's a thought I keep in mind as I silently undergo this hell. I black out as we walk. I wake up as we walk. I black out again. Every step means pain. Numbness. Pain. This damned poison has plenty of time to fester inside of me.

We follow a path that leads through the forest, well Derek calls it that anyhow. Did you know that every tree looks exactly the same as the other? We hear sounds and noises, like wolves watching us. I see one suddenly, a huge beast standing before us, watching us with its beady eyes. It growls and narrows its gaze, its ears pinned backwards and its front paws scuffling over the cold ground. The eyes become red.

'The Alpha,' I shout and I push Scott away from me, lowering myself to the ground and crawling in search for a log I can use as a weapon. I find a branch, pick it up and stand before the beast, only to feel a strong hand grasping my right wrist. My piece of wood is pried from my grip and I stare at my dad who calmly tells me there is nothing there. I had been swaying the wood at Scott. I sink down to the ground, not believing my own eyes anymore while dad holds me tight and tells me it's all okay.

'It is getting worse,' Scott whispers to my father while Derek unbinds my arm and looks at the wound. I barely look up as he does. 'I don't know how long he will hold on.'

Derek kneels by my side and tilts my head so we are face to face. 'He'll walk as long as it takes,' he says, 'Stiles won't give up. He's still with us, even with this poison inside of him. He's fighting it off and he'll make it. He's a survivor, Scott. Lift him, he needs water and food and so does Stilinski, _fast_. I don't trust anything in these woods, anything here might kill them.'

We're on the move again. They lift me up and force me to walk for the millionth time. We walk and stop, walk and stop. Stop again. It's so damned hot, even in the middle of the night. I gaze up at the half moon, glad it's not a super-damned-full-strange-moon night.

'Look.' Derek points at the edge of a small hill, going up, leading us to a small and narrow road. 'If we make it there, we can go by the road. Sooner or later a car will pass us by.'

'I know this road,' my dad says troubled, 'nobody knows this road. It will take us another hour to get to the outskirts of town but at least we'll be out of the woods, so to speak.'

'Let's go then,' Scott says and he and Derek start pulling me higher up the hill, forcing my feet to go with them. Derek constantly gazes over his shoulder, uncertain about his natural enemies, not understanding why they're not attacking us.

We move rapidly now, my feet being shoved through dirt and sand. They pull me with them so quickly I hardly even notice we're going the hill. Then we suddenly stand on concrete, on the road that splits the woods in half and leads towards the main road that will get us into town.

'It's nearly over,' Derek says in relief. 'We made him.'

'Good,' I say. Then I slide out of their arms before they can stop me, onto the hard, cold ground and close my eyes relieved, glad to be slipping away for a while.

But unfortunately, if I had hoped to wake up in the safety of our beloved town, I was mistaken. Instead, I awake lying with my head on my dad's lap. We are literally sitting/lying still on the concrete. They've moved me to the side of the road, where I lie safe in case some idiot decides to take the curb at a hundred miles per hour.

'Welcome back,' dad says, 'you're still with us, you're doing great, Stiles. You're beating this damned poison inside of you. I'm so proud of you.' His eyes glinster with pride and I realize I've never loved my dad so much as now.'

'Maybe it's time for time for that father-son talk now,' I mumble and he laughs out loud as he grasps my good hand and squeezes it tight. I see Scott kneeling down by my side too, but Derek has left.

'He's getting help in Beacon Hills,' my dad says. 'He's the fastest runner.'

'Alone?' I croak. 'Those wolves -'

'He'll be back with help soon, it's not that far and I sent him away,' Scott replied, 'it was the best choice to make as this road is nearly abandoned and it might take hours for someone to pass us by. The Alpha won't attack us now, he had plenty of opportunity to do so.'

'Can you help me up?' I ask to their surprise, my head actually feeling a little bit better.

'You won't be able to stand on your own feet,' Scott remarks.

'Try me.' I'm already moving up on my own account, clutching my hurt arm. Scott helps me to lean against a tree, right off the road. I lean against it with my back, resting my head against the old wood too. My arm feels like it's on fire and I know that fevers and infections are still raging through me, despite their efforts to stop it. Dad removes the makeshift bandage around my lower arm and frowns. He doesn't like what he sees and I'm not allowed to see for myself.

'It's bad, isn't it?' I asked.

'I'm afraid so.'

'Dad, I don't feel it.' I gaze at him and he startles.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean I literally don't have feeling in it. I can't move my hand anymore, my fingers are numb, the entire lower part of my arm feels like it's cut off.'

'It's swollen and infected,' Scott says, 'Mom will be able to fix that once we get you to the hospital. Derek will be back soon.'

'Can you feel him nearby?' my dad asks.

'I don't pick up his scent anymore if that's what you mean. He's already nearby Beacon Hills, I'm sure.'

'Why didn't I leave my phone in my pocket,' I mumble, remembering the moment I had taken it out, tapping a message to Lydia, right before the crash happened. It slipped out of my hand onto the ground, where it blew up with the rest of the car. I stare at dad. 'I'm sorry about your car.'

'What?' He stares at me as if I have gone crazy. 'Who cares about the car?'

'I do, cars are expensive.'

'I'll use the jeep for now, since you won't be able to drive for a while anyhow,' he remarks.

'Perhaps I'll never drive again,' I whisper. 'Then the jeep is all yours.'

'What?' Scott and Dad both look shocked at me.

'If they cut off my arm, how am I supposed to drive? It's a stickshift.'

'Who is talking about cutting off your arm?' Dad almost yells.

'It's useless.' I blurt out. 'It's infected. It's sick.' I slide through my legs until I sit on the ground again, staring at the dark road that leads to Beacon Hills.

Scott kneels down. 'Stiles, no way in hell that's going to happen. We'll fix this too, alright? We always fix it. We have plans, remember? Plan A is to get you the hell out of here right now, plan B is that there is no plan B. There are no other options than to get you to Beacon Memorial and in the hands of the best doctors ever.'

Dad cups my chin and smiles reassuringly, 'You've come so far, Stiles. Plan A is the only one on the table, Scott's right. You've made it this far. In an hour or so you'll be doped up on the best medication ever and your arm will be fixed. Derek will be here soon, with the cavalry. Why don't you rest for a while? You don't have to worry about all of this for now. We'll take care of you.'

I stare into my father's eyes and try to smile. As long as they're with me, I'll be fine. I close my eyes, believing I won't be sleep, but the next thing I know, I am. When I wake, they're gone. Both of them are gone.

to be continued


	8. Alpha

**Chapter Eight**

'Dad? Scott?' I say out loud, panicking immediately as I wake with my back leaning against the same tree. It's still the middle of the night and Derek hasn't returned yet. Nothing's changed, I must have slept for less than a few minutes.

I have not taken any pills for over a day now and my natural agitation builds up so fast I can't stop it. Fighting back rising bile, I pull myself up, lingering against the tree against which I slept. My good hand is shaking like crazy, my bad one I can't move at all.

I half expect my best friend and my father to run back at the sound of my voice, telling me excitedly a car has come for us, but they don't come back. Something's terribly wrong, I can feel it. Their absence scares the hell out of me. There's something off right now, the atmosphere of these woods and the road next to me has changed.

I lean against the same tree and try to force my shoulders to relax, my head to stop thinking wild, crazy thoughts. I feel darkness and pure fear inside my soul, like I often do these days. Something warns me I should go and find out what's going on. And where the hell is Derek? I'm afraid to let go of my support but do so anyhow.

'Scott!' I yell. 'Dad!' I hear nothing in return. I stand very still and close my eyes, concentrating on the sounds around me, not moving an inch. I'm not a wolf, I have no super senses but I know when something's wrong. This is wrong. Everything's wrong. I feel the same fear I did that night when Allison died. The whole world has gone crazy.

I hear the rustling of the tree leaves, the night sounds of mosquitos and fireflies and in the very far distance the growling of wolves. A humanoid growl, the groans of a larger pack that is half man half beast. And then there's something nearer, a faint noise that seems to sound like a groan and a cry and feet running around, followed by more sounds I've heard before.

I know what those noises are, what they mean and it scares me. I sink through my knees, my good hand blindly reaching for something I can use as a weapon, touching a thick stick, a lump of wood. It has the same feel as a bat, only lighter in weight, but it's enough for now. I wouldn't be able to swing something heavier than this anyhow.

Then I am on the move, slipping and walking, leaving the safety of the concrete slab, stumbling towards the noises between the trees that are only a few yards away. I force myself to stay strong, Scott needs my help to protect my dad and my dad needs me to protect Scott. I need to find out what's going on.

The darkness doesn't hide what's going on between those trees. Scott is standing below me, halfway down the small hill we had walked up, surrounded by two of them. Dad, weapon- and clawless like I, has taken a log pretty much like mine and is trying to save his own life, scooting a third beast off while Scott fights the others without killing them. The Alpha is standing at a distance, watching the scene. The others, Beta's I presume are attacking Scott. They're all males.

I know what has happened: Dad and Scott have lured them away from me because I had been the weakest and easiest prey. The wolves thought they could get to me anyhow, as I lay defenseless by the side of the road.

I grasp the log with my good hand, ignoring the taste of bile creeping up inside of me, forcing to get out. I'm scared, fights have never been my thing and I usually run away when we are being attacked. But this time I'm not running. I'm attacking by surprise.

And then I just sort of jump/fall further into the valley without giving it a second thought, straightening my back and throwing myself at the wolf attacking my dad,, swinging the log as if I do this every day, actually managing to hit the back of the werewolf's head while my father hits him in the face. Together we manage to knock the attacker out.

The other Beta's are startled by my sudden presence, obviously not expecting this skinny little human to attack one of them. Then they turn towards Scott again, fighting them together. Scott goes one on one with one of them while the other one turns and heads towards us. The Alpha is still expectantly waiting.

I lift the wood up, swinging it weakly while Dad lifts his log up and actually manages to hit the second Beta on the side. The moment he does that, I too swing my log for the second time and feel it strike the Beta's head. Dazed he momentarily backs off before coming at us again. His claws stretched forward, he aims for my father and grabs him, throwing him to the ground. I shout like crazy and throw myself on top of the wolf.

Then I feel the Alpha lifting me off his Beta, throwing me backwards. I stay down dazed, losing the log as I fall on the ground. His red eyes spit fire as he rolls me onto my back. He notices the bandage on my arm and squeezes his hand around it, his fingers clawing into the fabric. I scream in pain as he digs in, returning full forced pain into it. His nails can't scrape my skin luckily.

Dad lifts his bat for the third time and knock his attacker out permanently. Scott roars as he jumps at the other Alpha and pulls him off of me. I see them fight as I turn my head. Dad rushes to me, blood on his face. We hear sirens in the distance. Many of them.

'They're here, Stiles,' my dad says, looking up at the top of the valley.

'Go,' I say hoarsely, my eyes fixed on Scott who fights our enemy with all of his strength. Dad leaves me against reluctantly and runs up the hill, shouting and waving his arms. I hear plenty of cars stop. They're really here, I think, we're going to be okay.

The Alpha runs off as soon as he hears the sounds of many humans arriving to help us, taking his bruised and battered Beta's with him. Scott's injuries heal quickly as he sinks by my side, grabs my hand and smiles. 'Heroic Stiles,' he says, 'those batting skills of yours are amazing.'

My eyes close as lots of people, Derek and my father first, rush down the hill. 'Stay with me, Stiles,' Scott says. 'Come on, dude. You made it. We made it!'

But I can't.

To be continued


	9. Hospital

Again, thank you all for reading, following and reviewing! Very much appreciated :)

 **Chapter Nine**

I'm on the move, I can feel it. My body is being carried. I open my eyes and find myself on a gurney that can only have come from an ambulance. I stare at the stars above us until they once again disappear behind the thick tree branches and leaves through which I'm being carried up the valley. I couldn't have been out for less than a few minutes. I'm strapped on the gurney with a thin blanket on top of me. My arm has been protectively wrapped.

'He's waking up,' someone says and then I'm on the top of the valley again and see several ambulances, ready to move us to Beacon Memorial.

'My dad, where's my dad?' I ask frantically, not seeing him at first. 'Scott, where is he?'

'He's fine.' Scott appears before my very eyes. 'He's right over there.' His finger points to dad who reluctantly is sitting on another gurney, talking to a doctor while he checks him out briefly.

'Is he hurt? Did they - did -'

'No,' Scott stops me immediately, his eyes shooting a warning glance at the medical people around us. Dad jumps up when he sees me awake, only to sway on his feet. They force him to lie down on the gurney, move him into one of the waiting ambulances and talk to him to calm him down. Scott goes over to explain I'm awake and that he shouldn't worry too much.

Then Derek steps near the gurney. 'You came back,' I sigh relieved.

'What else?' he replies harshly but his eyes speak of his concern as he places his hand on my arm. 'You're burning up. How's your arm?'

'It hurts like hell,' I admit, as the throbbing sensations return to full force and I wish for a second I were still asleep so I wouldn't feel it.

A doctor hovers over me next to Derek as they prepare to take me to hospital. 'Where does it hurt, Stiles?'

'Everywhere. My head. My stomach. The arm. I am going to lose my arm, aren't I?'

'Not if we can help it,' he replies immediately. 'We'll get you to the hospital now and patch you up, okay? Try to stay awake.'

They lift me straight into the ambulance. Scott jumps in while Derek goes with dad and we start moving and I'm covered in thick warm blankets that slowly warm me up. I'm grateful for them. My toes start tingling inside their cocoons and my legs feel less sore from the day's walk. In other circumstances all of this would be over but it's not. My arm must look like hell, I can tell by their expressions.

'Fever is still alarmingly high,' I hear the doctor say as he contacted the hospital. 'The wound on his arm is infected pretty badly. Could be flesh eating bacteria.'

'What? No,' I hear myself say, completely in panic.

Scott doesn't't say a single word, pale as he has never been, grasping my good hand as he closes his eyes for a moment as if he realizes that they might had caused this when they cut open my arm to save my life.

The next thing I know I'm being moved into the ER of Beacon Memorial. I'm lifted onto a bed and several people are inside the room, surrounding me, removing all the bandages covering my arm and prodding it. Others cut open my clothes and placed warm blankets on top of me. I hear them talk about dehydration, exhaustion, hypothermia.

I wish someone would just knock me out, freeing me of the pain of their care. The moment that anyone touches the arm, I scream instead of just wincing or groaning. Someone gives me something for the pain and it doesn't work one bit.

'Just knock me out,' I nearly plead but don't. When I finally see the arm myself, I shout again. It's so badly infected I'm certain I'll lose it. I just know they won't be able to save it.

"Don't cut off my arm," I beg and plead with them, and I try to pull away when they prod it unmercifully. I fight against their grips, struggling hard to pull my limb free. I panic, my eyes filling with horrified tears.

Then my dad is in the room and forces me to look at him. 'Stiles,' he says, 'they will not cut off the arm, I swear. I won't let them do it.'

I hear them talking in the corner of the room and I just know that this promises more bad news. When the medical staff and my dad return, the doctor says, 'Stiles, we think there's something lodged inside your arm and we need to take a better look at it, but we can't as long as there's an infection like this threatening your health. At this moment your heart is strained under the constant stress of what you've been through. We have to rinse the wound and let it heal slowly, but it will hurt, I'm afraid. Your nerves have been damaged, that's what you're feel right now. That's why it hurts so much. The infection is threatening to shut down the muscles and nerves in your arm.'

'Then just knock me out,' I plead, swallowing my pride.

'We're giving you as much painkillers as we can, but we can't risk putting you to sleep,' the doctor explains, 'You've already lost consciousness too many times and you're very weak. If we sedate you, you might be not wake up again. Your heart might fail under the sedation.'

I stare at him in shock. 'You're not serious.'

'I'm afraid so.'

My dad grasps my hand and squeezes it tightly. 'I'll be here with you all the time, Stiles,' he says. 'and Scott's here too.'

I see Scott and Derek standing in the corner of the room, watching my suffering and I realize they are still here, after all of this, to stay with me. I nod. 'Just get it over with then.'

The doctors and nursing staff are making me as comfortable as possible. My arm is carefully stretched out onto a small separate slab next to the bed, then strapped down so I can't move it. I see them push more painkillers into my IV but it doesn't help much. No numbness sets in.

And then they start cleansing the wound and I scream again, losing complete control, shouting like crazy, the pain sending bolts of lightning right through my skull. I've lost every bit of self control while my dad, Derek and Scott are there, trying to take the pain away.

'Stay with us, Stiles,' the doctor says when he fades before my very eyes and I decide that it's better to go away with the darkness than to stick around for this terror.

'Stiles. _Stiles_!'

Then I'm gone.

To be concluded


	10. Talk

So that's it, the end of the ride. Hope you enjoyed it!

Thanks so much for your reviews, your reading and being there to join me during this story.

 **Chapter Ten**

I lost my arm.

It's the first thought that rushes through me when I wake up a couple of hours later and instantly feel that something is wrong with me. I have difficulty waking out of my slumber, like I've been on another planet.

'Stiles. _Stiles!'_ I feel hands shake me and voices call out to me. What have they done to me? I feel horrible. I clutch my side with my good right arm, fearing the moment I have to open my eyes and look at my – what I believe to be – missing left arm. I don't dare to look.

'Stiles, can you hear us?' the same voice asks. 'Open your eyes for me.'

I finally do and stare at the doctor who shines a light in my eyes and my dad, Scott and Derek who sit together in friendship by my bed. They're not alone, Melissa, Kira and Lydia are also there, Lydia obviously upset when her eyes catch mine. The sun is shining through the windows of the private room I'm in.

'He's awake,' my dad says relieved, tears filling his eyes. He's looking better, rested and fed. 'You're going to be okay, son. It's over.'

I don't dare to look down but when I do, I see my left arm in one piece, bandaged and all. They saved it. I lean back in relief, almost passing out again of pure relief.

'How do you feel?' the doctor asks.

I realize I'm feeling drugged but better. They really saved my arm! I can't believe that they did it.

'His temperature is finally going down,' a nurse says, checking my vitals. 'Heart rate stabilizing too.'

'We've saved your arm, as you can see,' the doctor explains, 'when you passed out, we continued to clean your arm to get a better look inside. We found almost a dozen splinters of wood embedded in your nerves, explaining the constant pains you had, but also causing the infection. We removed them surgically, you've been treated with a huge load of medication since then, fighting off the fever while your nerves are slowly recovering. The infection is gone, but you'll need some therapy to get the full use of your arm back. You'll be feeling better soon now though. All you need to do now is rest.'

I don't know what to say, so relieved I am that I still have my arm. I can move my hand, I feel a dull sensation in it too, which thrills me because it means that I will be able to use it again.

'I'll keep my jeep then,' I mutter to my dad who laughs out loud as he hugs me so tightly I think I'll just die from happiness. I have my arm back. They did it! They saved me, all three of them. With glistening eyes I look at Scott and Derek who both nod. Scott, with that relieved grin on his face he has when things work out fine. Derek just gazes at me and then he too smiles quietly. Much later, Scott tells me he was upset when we were attacked during his absence. I told him some time afterwards that it was not his fault and he saved me.

'You can sleep again,' my dad says when my eyes droop and I do as he says.

Every time I wake up, all of them are still there, sleeping, hanging around or chatting and caring for me and I feel safe and thankful. Every single time I feel better.

A day or so later my dad sits by my side, holding a new smartphone in his hands. 'The guys at the office pitched in to get you a new one,' he smiles, offering it to me. My arm rests in a sling on my chest and I sit upright in bed, still pampered by painkillers and excellent care. I accept the phone in gratitude and hug my dad.

'Thanks, Dad.'

He smiles nervously, unable to continue.

'What's wrong?'

'Stiles, I -' He stops again.

'You want to have that father-son talk now.'

He nods. 'Only, I don't know how to begin.'

'Dad, just tell me. Are you moving in together with your girlfriend?'

'What? No -' he stops, staring at me. 'Is that you thought I was going to say?'

'Weren't you? Because it's okay, you know. She's nice.'

'Stiles, I don't want anyone to move in with us. It's fine the way it is, isn't it?'

'Yeah,' I say, 'but just so you know, I'm still fine with it.'

He smiles troubled.

'Is this about what happened to me? Not now, but before ?'

He looks up again. Then he nods. 'There's something off, Stiles. Ever since - You know. I'm having these problems talking to you properly, son. I don't know how to put it, but - Well, something's changed, is missing. Between us, I mean.'

'I know,' I reply hastily, 'but we found it back in the woods, didn't we?'

He stares at me surprised and then he smiles suddenly, so relieved and so happily, realizing that I have felt it too and it wasn't just him. Our bond, that what we've had for so long and then lost, is back. Perhaps, probably, it's better than ever. I love my dad, he's my hero. Why didn't I remember that before? I grab him tight and he holds me against him so tightly that I swear I can hear his heartbeat pounding in my ear.

'I don't know about you,' I say hoarsely, 'but I wouldn't mind another trip like this. Without the crash and the werewolves, that is. You know, like a real camping trip? Just you and me?'

'Not a chance in hell that's ever going to happen, Stiles,' he grins, patting me on the back. 'Not a chance in hell.'

The End


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